


Let Them Talk

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alcohol, Dinner Party, M/M, Organized Crime, Rags to Riches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21977263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: Vanitas is making a scene at the dinner party tonight, and no one is going to stop him.
Relationships: Vanitas/Ventus (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 56





	Let Them Talk

  
  
  
Vanitas is making a scene at the dinner part tonight, and no one is going to stop him.  
  
Maybe he should act like an outright ass. Even more than usual. Flirt with girls his own age trying way too hard, and rich housewives so dulled by pills they don’t even realize their husbands are still standing there. Maybe he could destroy the tower of champagne flutes, and walk away from the ensuing crash sipping on the lone surviving glass.  
  
Maybe he should get completely blitzed on a few bottles of expensive wine, stolen from Xehanort’s cellar, of course. Something rich and aged in pricey bourbon barrels. Maybe he should do that, but also spill a glass over Xemnas in front of the ambassadors, mulberry color bleeding into his crisp, white, _perfect_ dress shirt and ugly designer monochrome tie. And that hair. Oh! That slick, immaculately styled mane of his. What Vanitas wouldn’t give to just _ruin_ it. Dye it with red wine until it’s a bright, gaudy pink. He chuckles to himself at the thought alone. He always considered himself lucky as the only one in this god-forsaken family that wasn’t cursed with white-silver hair. The look, and the maintenance… Just a whiff of that imported violet shampoo is enough to make him gag. The Young Master practically _bathes_ in it.  
  
Vanitas watches the party from afar, leaning against the wall. He’s already removed his tie and left it somewhere, and unbuttoned the first few clasps on his shirt. He can’t breathe like that. All wound up like a damn doll. That’s his usual brand of rebellion, but what else should he do? This is his last chance. A final bout with his fucked up destiny. If he’s going to be forced into the fold of the Organization, he’s not going down without a fight. They’re going to have to drag him kicking and screaming. But what should he do?  
  
A pristine platter with a single glass of champagne is presented to him, obscuring the frilly dresses and overbearing lights. “Would you like a drink?” There’s a blonde boy on the other end of the platter in a clean white shirt and black vest. He’s serving drinks with a cute little smile and blue-green eyes that clearly know sadness.  
  
“Are you even old enough to be serving that?” Vanitas snorts as he takes the glass into his hand.  
  
The boy proudly puffs out his chest. “I’m older than I look.”  
  
“Then, why just me?”  
  
“Huh?” He tilts his head like a Labrador. Charming.  
  
“There was only one glass on that platter of yours,” he points out with a sip. “The platter’s clean, too, with nothing spilled from other drinks or food. You only put one glass on it, and brought it over to me. Especially for me. Why?”  
  
The boy clutches the platter to his chest. His eyes are sparkling. “You’d made a good detective.”  
  
“I’ll be a better criminal.”  
  
He laughs. Genuinely. It’s strange. Vanitas isn’t used to it. He only ever gets a polite chuckle from people who are _obligated_ to laugh at his jokes or a dissatisfied glare from those who are close enough to be sick of his shit. But this boy… he laughs at Vanitas’s snide comment. Warm smile and glittering eyes. “You just looked like you needed a drink,” he says.  
  
“Is that so?”  
  
“You’re also over here by yourself, so… I figured I only needed one glass.”  
  
“How simple of you.” As simple as a dazzling smile that Vanitas can’t take his eyes off of.  
  
“I don’t like to over-complicate things.”  
  
A good mantra, if a bit easy to exploit. “My life is nothing but complications,” he grumbles, giving up on the charade of sipping and just downing the champagne in one go. The blonde boy sputters a little, and Vanitas hands him the empty glass. “Here. Thanks.”  
  
He glances down into the flute, as if expecting it to be nothing but a magic trick. He must be older than he looks _and_ acts. “Would… you like another?”  
  
“I would,” he breathes, and before the boy can scurry away he asks: “What’s your name?”  
  
“Ventus—but you can call me Ven.”  
  
Vanitas is _allowed_ to call him as such, huh? “Okay, Ven. You’re mine tonight, got it? I’m gonna need some help with a few things.”  
  
Ven bows at the waist. That smile won’t go away. “Got it. Sounds fun.”  
  
Oh, it’ll be fun. Vanitas has no doubt about that.  
  
He returns a minute later with a new glass filled with champagne. He presents it to Vanitas with that same grin. “Here you are.”  
  
“Great.” He accepts the glass and has a sip. It’s cool and sweet.  
  
Ven stands nearby, straight back and fidgeting hands. Vanitas watches his fingers climb the full circumference of the platter dangling in front of him. “So, what was it that you needed help with?”  
  
He swallows another mouthful of champagne. “You know who I am, right?”  
  
That seems to catch him off-guard, and he subtly flinches. “You’re one of Xehanort’s sons.”  
  
So he knows that much, at least. “The literal black sheep of the family,” he huffs.  
  
And Ven _laughs_. “I never thought of it that way. But I guess so.”  
  
Vanitas feels the champagne burning down his chest. “I’m thinking of a way to ruin this party.”  
  
He tilts his head again. Like a puppy. “Isn’t this party _for you_?”  
  
“That’s the final act. The rest is nothing but appearances.” As soon as his indoctrination is christened with a stilted, bloated toast, the party is over. It’s all over for him.  
  
“I see…” he sounds concerned.  
  
“How would you do it?”  
  
Ven jumps again. “Ruin the party?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He brings a thoughtful hand to his chin. It takes him a moment to answer. “Probably get really drunk and swing from the chandelier.”  
  
It’s Vanitas’s turn to burst out laughing. “Tried it. Eighteenth birthday. Old Man started reinforcing the bolts in the ceiling.”  
  
“Aw man,” he pouts. “That’s always been my dream.”  
  
Honestly, it _was_ really fun. “I can still arrange it,” Vanitas says, and polishes off his glass. “You might have to stand on my shoulders, though.”  
  
“M-me?”  
  
“I can’t pull the same trick twice. They might start calling me predictable.” He hands over the empty glass. From here, the chandelier in the center of the grand hall looks to be… maybe twelve feet off the ground. Even if Ven stands on his shoulders, it’ll be a reach for him.  
  
“Another glass?” Ven snickers, ruthlessly capturing his attention.  
  
“Yeah. Grab one for yourself, too.”  
  
“Oh—I, uh…” he’s stammering. “I’m not allowed to drink on the job.”  
  
How earnest. Being so straight-laced won’t do. Vanitas will have to break him in a bit. “Don’t worry about that,” he dismisses. “You work for me now, and I say you can have a glass of champagne. So get one.”  
  
Ven’s smile flickers nervously. “R-right. Okay.” And he disappears back through the crowd, weaving through people who don’t even acknowledge his existence.  
  
A few eyes glance over at Vanitas curiously, or judgingly, or disgustedly. Good. Get them talking. He doesn’t care.  
  
It takes longer for Ven to return than it did before. He shows up with two glasses on a platter and his gaze glued to the floor.  
  
Vanitas looks him up and down. Slumped shoulders and downcast stare… “You were scolded?”  
  
He tenses up. “Y-yeah… How could you tell?”  
  
“Because it’s written all over your face,” he snorts, and grabs his chosen glass. “What about?”  
  
Ven makes no moves to claim the other champagne flute. “Slacking…”  
  
Paying favoritism to him, Vanitas expects. But of course, he claimed Ven for tonight. Ven shouldn’t have to worry about anyone or anything else. “Don’t worry about it. You work for me, remember? Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll double it.”  
  
He almost tips the platter over. “W-what?!”  
  
“You’re mine,” Vanitas states, plucking the second glass of champagne from the platter and presenting it to Ven. “Only mine.”  
  
Ven swallows hard. That dumbfounded expression of his is hysterical. “A-are you sure?”  
  
“Are you going to let me drink alone?”  
  
He mulls it over for another moment, before shaky fingers reach out and grasp the stem of the glass. “I guess you’re used to getting anything you want, huh?”  
  
Oh, so he can bite back. Even better. “You’d be surprised,” he grins, and clinks their glasses together. This is going to be fun.  
  
Ven stares down into the bubbling drink. “Thank you.”  
  
“Thank me after I’m picking you up from whatever’s left of the chandelier.”  
  
“You got it,” he laughs again, and finally has a drink of champagne. “Does that mean you’ve decided on how to ruin the party?”  
  
“More or less,” he shrugs. Drinking with the help is certainly part of it, though he didn’t plan it. “I’m hoping to spill some wine before the night’s over, but I might need something stronger first. Just champagne isn’t gonna cut it.”  
  
“Yeah, I guess not.”  
  
“I have a bottle of Canadian whiskey I was saving for a special occasion. I suppose my funeral is good enough.”  
  
Ven chuckles. “That’s awfully dramatic.”  
  
“I want to be so far gone that I don’t even remember how this charade ends.”  
  
He hums and sips on his drink in silence.  
  
Vanitas glances at him, still standing off to the side with the platter in his hand and his shirt buttoned all the way to the top and a cloth apron tied around his waist. This isn’t gonna cut it, either. Vanitas reaches over and snatches the platter from him. “Get rid of this.”  
  
“H-huh?”  
  
“You don’t need it.” He drops it to the floor with a loud clatter. Heads swivel towards the noise and him and Ven in his peripherals, and Vanitas pretends to not notice. “This too,” he mutters, undoing Ven’s top button with a single hand.  
  
“Woah!” Ven sputters. He takes a step back, clearly noticing the attention they’re getting, but Vanitas stays close.  
  
“It’s fine.” One more button. There. Vanitas can see his collarbones. He reaches around Ven’s waist and pulls the apron free as well. It drops around his perfectly polished shoes in a heap. Vanitas leans back and assesses his work. “Much better.”  
  
Ven is a quivering mess. His face has turned rosy. There are a number of things he could be embarrassed about, but Vanitas can’t quite pinpoint which it is. “Why?”  
  
“You look better this way,” he says.  
  
Ven’s face darkens. So that’s it. “O-oh…” He has another nervous sip of champagne.  
  
“I’m not inviting you into my bedroom or anything.”  
  
“Of course not!” he sputters.  
  
“Then, relax.”  
  
A deep breath. “Right… Okay.”  
  
“Good. You have to help me make a scene, remember?”  
  
Ven gives an affirmative hum.  
  
Vanitas spots a platter of red wine bobbing across the room. Perfect. Maybe he can turn Xemnas pink, after all. It’s not from Xehanort’s expensive reserve, but it’ll do. Vanitas downs his glass of champagne again, and hands it back to Ven. “Be right back.”  
  
“Huh?” He turns to a statue. Anxious and frozen and practically begging Vanitas to not leave him there alone.  
  
“It’s time to spill some wine,” he explains, but Ven isn’t having it. Vanitas brings a hand beneath Ven’s chin, delicately raising it. “Keep your head up. No one questions someone who acts like they belong there.”  
  
Ven’s lips press tightly together, but he nods.  
  
Vanitas heads straight for the server with the platter of wine. He takes one without a word and immediately gulps half of it down. If he’s going to pretend to be worse off than he is, he’ll have to look the part, at least. Xemnas isn’t dumb enough to fall for any half-assed antics. Vanitas glances back, for confirmation or reassurance or _something_ he’s not sure of, and finds Ven cornered by a burly-looking guy in the same server’s getup Vanitas had just systematically removed. Ven looks like he wants to curl up and disappear.  
  
Xehanort must be shirking on these drinks, because the champagne is so cheap it’s giving Vanitas heartburn. He storms back over to Ven, feeling like he wants to throw up. “Is there a problem?” he mutters, standing in the best high-and-mighty posture he can muster—arms crossed, but with his wine glass still held daintily aloft.  
  
The burly guy turns around, but once he spots Vanitas standing there his entire demeanor changes. “F-forgive me,” and he bows. “Ventus is my responsibility. I apologize for him bothering you.”  
  
“He isn’t bothering me,” Vanitas states simply, and the big guy looks hilariously perplexed. “I told him to stay. He’s on my payroll, now.”  
  
“I apologize. I didn’t realize—”  
  
“ _You_ are bothering me,” he mutters.  
  
He nods profusely. “Of course.”  
  
Vanitas glares at him until he leaves. Bumbling moron. Not worth a second of his time.  
  
As soon as the guy is gone, Ven takes the rest of his champagne in one gulp.  
  
“That’s the spirit,” Vanitas laughs. He props himself on the wall next to Ven. “Relaxed yet?”  
  
Ven snorts. “Not even close…”  
  
“Sounds like you need more champagne.”  
  
There’s that smile. “If you say so.”  
  
“I do say so. So, go get another glass. Get Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Stupid to fetch it for you.”  
  
He stiffens again. “You mean Terra?”  
  
“Who cares,” Vanitas rolls eyes. “Just go.”  
  
Ven does as he’s told. He’s so earnest and loyal… just like a puppy.  
  
Vanitas sips on his wine. He can’t drink all of it. He has to save some of it for later.  
  
“Vanitas. What are you doing?” A voice too deep to be natural comes from nearby. Right on time.  
  
He puts on a slimy grin, and makes sure to tilt his glass. “How’s it goin’, Superior?”  
  
Xemnas’s expression doesn’t change at all. “Vanitas… still as crass and vulgar in your language as ever, I see.”  
  
“You know I flunked outta etiquette school.”  
  
“Would that it be the _only_ embarrassment you’ve brought upon this family.” He furrows his brow. A small, but clear sign that he’s legitimately upset. Good.  
  
“C’mon, that’s not even in the top ten,” he gestures wildly with the half-empty glass. Xemnas doesn’t flinch.  
  
“Cultivating insubordination within the staff would, however, be one of your more grave offenses.”  
  
“Cut me some slack, X,” Vanitas forces a slur. “Just look how cute he is. Since when has Pops had such good taste?”  
  
If Xemnas were a more expressive man, Vanitas imagines he would be bristling at that. “Xehanort does not fraternize with his servants, let alone—”  
  
And Vanitas bursts out laughing. “You’re more gullible than you look if you believe that!”  
  
“Vanitas,” he warns in that low, dark tone.  
  
It’s perfect timing. Vanitas keeps laughing, and slings his arm towards Xemnas, red wine catapulting from the glass and onto his pressed, perfect, tailored, suit. Not a drop besmirches his hair, though. Damn. “Oops,” Vanitas cackles. “ _Sorry_ , X.”  
  
Xemnas doesn’t bat an eye. “You are a disgrace.” He marches away, presumably to change into a new, even fancier suit that he has a closet full of.  
  
“That’s the idea!” Vanitas calls after him. He stares down into what’s left of his wine, not enough for a single sip. That wasn’t as fun as he hoped it would be.  
  
Ven appears at his side, toting two glasses of champagne and a solemn look in his eye. “Are you alright?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You spilled your wine.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah…”  
  
“But you don’t look like you’re having fun.” Looks like Ven might be sharper than Vanitas gave him credit for.  
  
He laughs, more genuinely this time. “I’m only happy when others are miserable.” Then he takes the empty glass and tosses it towards the center of the room, where it shatters with a pathetic crash. At least three women audibly gasp. Two men grumble disapprovingly beneath their breath.  
  
Ven completely ignores the commotion forming behind him, and hands Vanitas a flute of champagne. “Sounds like you need another.”  
  
“You learn quick,” he grins.  
  
“Comes with the job.”  
  
Are people staring at them? He can’t tell. Ven’s smile is too warm and sincere. Vanitas grabs his chin and places a kiss on the sharp corner of his lips. His heart does a somersault. _That_ was fun.  
  
Ven gapes at him, face almost as red at the stain on Xemnas’s suit.  
  
“C’mon,” Vanitas takes his hand and tugs. “Let’s see if you can reach the chandelier.”  
  
Ven follows close behind. His laughter bubbles like champagne.  
  
Several people tell them to stop. A few even shout at them, Xehanort included, but when Vanitas gets Ven onto his shoulders and Ven actually manages to reach the ornate, glass chandelier in the center of the grand hall—it’s fun. Vanitas might get disowned for this. He can only hope. Then again, this display only scratches the top five of the Worst Things He’s Ever Done.  
  
Xehanort really wasn’t joking about reinforcing the bolts for the chandelier. Ven comes down before it does. Vanitas tries to catch him, and luckily all the wine and champagne is enough to numb the collision. They end up sprawled out on the floor, laughing like idiots and earning several scowls and upturned noses. Ven doesn’t notice, and Vanitas doesn’t care.  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I didn't write this exclusively for vanven week, but it just-so-happened to turn out that way~  
> It doesn't fit ANY of the prompts either but shhhh... I also just wanted to see how many times I could use the word "champagne" before it became unbearable. 
> 
> @VaniVeniVici


End file.
